Safe From the Dark (5 page)

After
Gram’s death, there had been a call from her lawyer that she had never bothered
to return. Her father had severed all contact, and as an adult, Evie worried
that too much time had passed to reconnect, and then lost her chance when word
of Gram’s death reached her. She called the lawyer back. Hope and purpose
washed over her the moment she hung up the phone.

Even
gone, Gram was giving her another chance at a home.

“Everything
okay?”

Evie
snapped back to the present and the handsome young mayor pulling into a space
in front of the town’s modest Town Hall. For a moment, she wondered what kind
of a man he was when he wasn’t rescuing half-drowned damsels who showed up on
his doorstep, but then forcefully reminded herself that it didn’t matter. She
wanted to be friendly, but her reaction to Colin so far had her worried. Very
worried. He could be a prince, a playboy, or a Boy Scout. She wasn’t going to
give herself a chance to get close enough to find out.

“Fine.
I’m dying for a cup of coffee.”

“Why
don’t I meet you in the diner in half an hour? Right over there. I’m going to
check in at the office and make sure nothing exploded in the eighteen hours
I’ve been gone.”

He
rolled his eyes, and flashed a grin as he left her on the sidewalk. Evie
steeled herself, letting the peal of church bells in the distance wash over
her, and then crossed the square toward the old-fashioned Sheriff’s Department
on the corner.

COLIN
BREEZED INTO HIS office, not surprised to find Candace Wilkinson there ahead of
him. In her mid-forties, Candace had run the mayor’s office for twenty-five
years, and no one knew the ins and outs of Bright’s Ferry like she did. His
assistant, Tom Castillo, often complained that between Colin’s need to handle
everything himself and Candace’s efficiency, he had nothing left to do, but
Candace was indispensable. With impeccable but severe style, Candace was a
formidable presence in Town Hall, and Colin was often grateful for her ability
to run interference for him.

“Isn’t
it Sunday, and weren’t you and Alan going antiquing this weekend?”

Candace
merely handed over a stack of messages, unruffled.

“Alan
sprained his wrist fixing the door to the barn, so we had to postpone. Besides,
I knew you’d be in sooner or later. One call from the Harvest Festival
Committee, one complaint from the Harbormaster about college kids drinking on
the docks – he wants that ordinance to go through so he can put up signs.”

“Yeah,
I know. It’s got to go to the Council first.”

“One
call from Millicent Grayson.”

Candace
glared at him and Colin felt his cheeks heating. Millicent was sweet, a young
mother who had lost her husband in a fishing accident on one of the local
trawlers. He’d helped her through her loss, comforted her young son, but so far
had managed to resist her not so subtle hints that he could comfort her best in
bed. He had a feeling that the guilt involved would far eclipse the pleasure of
fucking the pretty young woman – nothing easy or uncomplicated there.

“I’m
not leading her on, Candace, I swear.”

Candace
humphed, but continued.

“Tom
went over to talk to Dreyer Morton.”

“What’s
wrong now?”

“Apparently
the neighbors’ trees are dropping apples on his precious roses.”

“Does
he realize that’s not really an issue for this office?”

“He’s
the richest man in town, and this is Bright’s Ferry. Everything’s an issue for
this office. Two calls from Deirdre Small. She says you’re not answering your
cell phone.”

Colin
sank into his desk chair.

“I
know. I left it at home last night. Is that it?”

Candace
raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. Instead, she pulled an envelope from a
drawer, addressed to him in crude charcoal strokes.

“Another
one of these.”

“What
does it say this time?”

“The
usual about the wages of sin and corruption. What do you want to do with it?”

“Put
it in the box with the others. Just some nutjob trying to cause trouble.”

Candace
frowned.

“This
is the third this month, and if you don’t mind my saying so, it sounds a little
more…emphatic…than the others.”

“I
don’t want to feed this guy’s ego by catering to his delusions, Candace. Just
ignore it. He’ll stop eventually. What else?”

Candace
plopped a stack of paper on his desk.

“Just
a few signatures and you’re out of here. Everything okay? You seem distracted,”
she noted, curious.

Colin
thought of Evie’s bright gray eyes and prickly demeanor, and a flare of arousal
flickered up his spine. But he only waved, dismissive.

“I’m
fine. Let’s do this.”

Picking
up a pen, he dove in.

EVIE
SIZED UP THE man sitting across from her. Dressed in jeans and an oxford with a
badge clipped to his belt, Sheriff Tony Arnetto was tall, broad, with dark
Italian looks that probably had more than one woman lingering on the old cliché
about a man in uniform. However, the fantasy usually didn’t include a pair of
chocolate brown eyes that seemed to brim with perpetual grief. A man that
handsome shouldn’t look so sad.

“Evelyn
Asher.”

“It’s
Evie.”
God, I’m nervous.

Tony
drummed his fingers on the desk and considered her thoughtfully.

“They
don’t have very nice things to say about you back in New York. Jack Forrest and
I came up in the academy together. Word gets around.”

Evie
braced herself for the rejection. It had been lunacy to think she could start
over as a small town deputy, but law enforcement was what she knew, what she
was good at. Evie’s eyes fell to the desk, absently noting a wedding picture of
Tony with a gorgeous redhead.

It
might be time to hone your waitressing skills, Asher.

“The
man was a prick.” Tony’s voice was sharp.

Startled,
Evie’s eyes snapped up to meet Tony’s, which were full of sympathy.

“Once
a prick, always a prick. Still, I gotta say, the last few weeks don’t show the
greatest judgment on your part.”

“I
know. I’ve basically been in free fall.” There wasn’t anything to do but admit
it.

“How’s
the shoulder?”

“Good,”
she lied, “Barely notice it anymore.”

Tony
smiled wryly.

“You’re
a bad liar.”

He
leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Here’s
the deal. This is a tiny department, just me and the rookie – Zeke Biggs. We
get our fair share of shit, mostly during tourist season and the Harvest
Festival, which is coming up, so the extra hands would be helpful. I have a feeling
you burned a lot of bridges – ”

Evie
swallowed a lump in her throat and pointed at the computer screen, where her
entire history was laid out in black and white.

“Look
at my records from before. I had the highest collar rate in the precinct, not a
black mark or a single infraction. I was three weeks from taking the detective
exam – ”

“And
then you blew it all for a little fun in the sack with God’s gift to
douchebaggery.”

Evie
stuttered to a halt, and then –

“Not
my finest hour. We all make mistakes.”

Tony
rubbed his gold wedding ring absently.

“Yes,
we do.”

Evie
lifted her chin, determined.

“But
I think it’s safe to say that all that shit is over with and I’ve certainly
learned my lesson.”

Tony’s
laugh surprised her. He stood.

“Your
Gram was the nicest woman I ever met, and it broke her heart, what happened to
your mom. She always knew you’d come back here one day. I don’t want to be the
one to meet her in the afterlife as the guy who wouldn’t give her little Evie a
job.”

A
kernel of hope blossomed in Evie’s chest.

“So
– ”

“Why
don’t we call this a trial? The pay’s crap, the hours are irregular, and Zeke
is still wet behind the ears.”

“Sounds
great.”

Tony
held out a hand.

“Welcome
aboard, Evie Asher.”

If
it weren’t for her wounded side, Evie would have skipped down the stairs of the
building, her shiny new badge clipped to her belt, the familiar weight of a
holster against her hip. Tony had given her strict orders to recuperate for at
least a week.

Thanks,
Gram
, Evie
thought to herself, grateful for the goodwill her grandmother had managed to
accrue over the years. She only hoped she could live up to her legacy.

Evie
couldn’t help the grin that played around her lips as she stepped up to the
homey diner across the street. It had been too long since she’d had anything to
smile about.

“Tiny,
come
down
!” The voice was plaintive and a little panicked.

Evie
paused and looked around, spotting the source of the complaint – a little blond
boy, about nine years old, staring up into the branches of a giant tree halfway
down the block. She judged the height of the tree as the child flung himself
against the trunk, managed to get a foothold, and started up. Six laboring feet
up, he slipped, skidded, and landed at the base with a thud.

“Ow.”

As
he dusted himself off to try again, Evie joined him.

“What’s
the matter?”

“Tiny’s
stuck,”

Big
blue eyes, brimming with tears, met hers as he pointed. Evie looked up to see
what had to be the fattest striped furball in the state clinging to a branch
about twenty feet up, yowling his head off.

“Hmmm.”

Evie
reached into her pocket, dug out a dollar, and pointed at the market.

“Why
don’t you go over there and pick up a can of tuna, and we’ll see if we can’t
get him down, okay?”

“Mama
says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“That’s
good advice. I’m Evie. I’m a Sheriff’s deputy.”

She
showed him her badge, which he inspected carefully, eyes wide.

“Can
I help you, Miss?” The girlish voice didn’t match the petite woman striding over
to join them. Dressed in Gothy black lace and heavy military boots, her purple
streaked reddish hair and heavy rocker makeup were at odds with the little
glasses perched on the end of a decidedly cute nose.

“Brian
Olsen, where’s your mom?”

“Getting
her nails done. Tiny got stuck.”

“Again?”
The unusual young woman sighed.

“Where’s
a hot firefighter when you need one, right?” Evie joked, and nodded at little
Brian, who scampered off toward the market. She held out her hand.

“Hi,
I’m Evie Asher.”

The
woman stared.

“Good
Lord, you’re Fran’s granddaughter.”

She
shook hands, her grip firm.

“Welcome
to Bright’s Ferry. I’m Grace Mallow. I run the library.”

“Really?”
The disbelief slipped out, and Evie instantly regretted it as a shadow passed
over Grace’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that – you’re just so – young.”

Grace
took it in stride, but Evie was relieved as Brian came scampering back with a
can of tuna and a can opener.

“Great,
let’s give this a try.”

She
opened the tuna, and within seconds, the fat monster had wiggled his way down
the tree trunk and was devouring bites of fish in between rapturous squeezes
from the little boy.

“Nice
job, Ms. Asher.” Grace grinned.

“She’s
a deputy!” filled in Brian, helpfully.

“I
just moved to town.”

“And
you’re already rescuing cats from trees. Well, the least I can do is buy
breakfast for one of Bright’s Ferry’s finest.”

“There
are only three of us.”

“All
the more reason to keep your strength up.”

She
led the way into the diner, which was overflowing with locals and tourists –
families, groups of little old women, and a table full of fishermen, trading
stories and downing massive plates of eggs and home fries.

Evie
noted the cold looks darted their way and for a moment wondered if this is what
it would always be like – suspicion and judgment from complete strangers –
until she realized that the looks of disapproval were aimed at
Grace
. To
her credit, Grace ignored them and claimed a booth in the corner. In seconds, a
tiny woman in a uniform and apron approached the table. Wrinkled and ancient,
her eyes still sparkled. She reminded Evie of an aging fairy, minus the wings.

“Why
Evie Asher, as I live and breathe. You’re the spitting image of your mother,
God rest her soul.”